Little Alice sat on Grandfather's foot-stool, with a picture-book in her hand; and, for every picture, the child was telling Grandfather a story.

She did not read from the book, (for little Alice had not much skill in reading,) but told the story out of her own heart and mind.
Charley was too big a boy, of course, to care any thing about little Alice's stories, although Grandfather appeared to listen with a good deal of interest.

Often, in a young child's ideas and fancies, there is something which it requires the thought of a lifetime to comprehend.

But Charley was of opinion, that if a story must be told, it had better be told by Grandfather, than little Alice.
"Grandfather, I want to hear more about your chair," said he.
Now Grandfather remembered that Charley had galloped away upon a stick, in the midst of the narrative of poor Lady Arbella, and I know not whether he would have thought it worth while to tell another story, merely to gratify such an inattentive auditor as Charley.

But Laurence laid down his book and seconded the request.